Inhaling sharply, I smell her perfume, fresh and floral. I know who is here. Lisa. She removes her hand from my shoulder and I glance over as she kneels besides me. Bruising stains the side of her face where she slipped on the ice, but I don’t ask any questions. Instead, I stretch out my hand. She threads her fingers through mine, and I know he is here with us. In the breeze that ruffles my hair, in the rain that kisses my skin.

Jake.

His name is carved in large, swirling, impossible-to-ignore letters and that was him all over. Impossible to ignore. Pulling people to him with his charm and charisma. I loved him. I swallow down the lump that endlessly rises in my throat. I still love him. I don’t need to see the pain that will be etched over Lisa’s face right now to know she still loves him too.

‘I’m so sorry, Kat.’ Lisa squeezes my fingers, and I feel how much she is trembling. I think it is too much for both of us being here but I can’t bring myself to leave.

‘I’ve so much I wish I could tell him,’ I say.

‘I talk to him all the time,’ Lisa says, and I think for the first time, how it must have been for her, the one who stayed. I feel terrible I never came back before now. For her. It’s stupid I thought I could wipe it all from my mind as though it never happened.

‘It was my fault,’ I say. My voice is flat. There is no unspoken question mark.

‘It was an accident,’ says Lisa. ‘If I thought for one second it was your fault… It wasn’t. Really.’

‘But if I hadn’t—’

‘Stop!’ As Lisa shouts, the branches rustle and a bird squawks as it flaps its wings, soaring high into the sky. ‘Does it have to be someone’s fault?’

She screws her face as though it hurts to talk, and it probably does. The skin on her cheek puffy and swollen; her eye half-closed and black. I wonder if she’s talking about Jake or about her miscarriage.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘I didn’t come here to do anything other than check on you.’ I realise as I speak I am telling the truth. I know Lisa has lost the baby but I don’t want to lose her, not again. ‘Should you be out of bed?’

‘As long as I take it easy the doctor says. No lifting or running marathons. I’ve stomach cramps still, and this.’ She touches her cheek. ‘But I’ll live and you’ve got to start living too. Stop blaming yourself. Think about the future. Think about your baby.’

‘What baby?’ I say dully.

‘This one.’ Lisa takes my hand and places it on her stomach.

‘But I thought?’

‘I was bleeding. But the doctor did a scan and I’m still pregnant.’

‘But how?’

‘The doctor thinks it is—’ She stops herself. ‘It was twins. They do run in the family, remember?’ And we both instinctively turn to look at the headstone of the boy we both loved unconditionally. Her as a brother, me as a lover. And as I kneel, the dampness soaking through my leggings, the cold wind numbing my cheeks, you wouldn’t think it was possible to feel heartbroken and hopeful at the same time, but somehow I do.

* * *

It only takes a couple of minutes to drive to the pub. My clothes are still soaking. Lisa’s must be too.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to go home and change?’ Already I feel the need to look after her.

‘No, it’s okay. Let’s go in and celebrate.’ Her voice is as flat as I feel. Celebrating feels wrong.

‘Are you okay?’ I am worried. Her complexion, always pale, is as white as flour.

‘Tired but the doctor says there’s no reason the remaining twin should be at risk. It’s just…’ She bites her bottom lip and stares out through the windscreen, fogging again now I have cut the engine. ‘Going to the crematorium…’ She shrugs miserably.

‘Do you go often?’ It’s supposed to be comforting, isn’t it? Having a place to visit. But as I’d knelt there before Lisa arrived, shivering with cold and the sensation of being watched, I felt anything but comforted.

‘Not enough. I went today because I knew you’d come looking for me, and how could you not visit Jake? Usually, I feel terrible. I avoid it because being there, visiting Jake, it brings it all back. I feel so bloody guilty.’

‘What do you have to feel guilty for?’ I am surprised. I thought I carried the guilt alone.

Lisa picks at a thread hanging off the bottom of her jumper and I know she is choosing her words carefully.

‘That night—’

We both jump as there is a thud. Somebody bumps into the car as they hurtle past.

‘What the?’ I pull my sleeve over the heel of my hand and rub the misted window but whoever was there has long gone.

‘Probably kids,’ says Lisa. ‘They play in this car park all the time. Let’s go inside. I’m freezing.’

‘What were you going to say. About feeling guilty?’

‘It’s all the “what if’s”, isn’t it? Even…’ She gazes out of the window, unable to meet my eye. ‘If I hadn’t been friends with you, my brother would never have met you. Would he still be here? But we’ll never know, will we?’ She opens her door and steps outside. I can still see her. I could stretch out my hand and touch her, but she feels so far away.

Inside the pub, I ease off my coat, throwing it over a stool near a crackling open fire.

‘Hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows?’

‘My go-to rainy day drink.’ Lisa attempts a smile. ‘You remembered.’

At the bar, the barista heats the milk in a machine that spits and gurgles. The sight of champagne chilling in the fridge saddens me. I’m still going to be a mum and I should be shouting it from the rooftops but the thought of the baby Lisa has lost is at the forefront of my mind. I can’t help wondering if it would have been a boy or girl. It is almost incomprehensible I could be feeling such a raw sense of loss for a baby I didn’t know existed, but I can. I do. Tears are not far from the surface as I try to bring my thoughts back to the baby who is left, reassure myself it is okay to feel happy.

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Lisa asks before I have even sat back down with the drinks. ‘Or karma. What goes around. I don’t know. Do you believe some things are meant to be? Inevitable almost?’

Written in the stars, I think, but instead, I say: ‘I’m not sure. I used to, but some things seem so senseless, don’t they? So pointless? If it’s all part of some grand plan I can’t help wondering why.’

‘What I said. Before. About Jake still being here if he hadn’t met you, I don’t believe that. Not really. Car accidents happen every day, and if it was his time, where and who he was with wouldn’t have made a difference, would it?’

‘It doesn’t stop me feeling any less guilty though. If it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have been in the car at all.’

‘Do you think she still feels bad? The other driver?’

I shrug. I hadn’t really thought about her. ‘At least she didn’t have any passengers in the car with her. No one else… got hurt.’ I can’t say the word ‘died’. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it still haunts her.’

‘That’s what frustrates me, I think. The police ruled it a non-fault collision. Atrocious weather. A tragic accident. But Mum seems to need someone to blame. Craves it, almost. She can’t seem to let go.’

I take hold of her hand.

‘Sometimes…’ Her voice quivers. ‘I wonder if she wishes it were me who died instead? If Jake was her favourite?’

‘That’s not true. She didn’t have a favourite.’

‘I suppose we believe what we want to, don’t we?’ Lisa sighs. ‘Anyway, this is for you.’ She pulls a grainy black-and-white picture out of her bag.

At first, I can’t make it out.

‘Is that?’

‘The baby. I’m so sorry you ended up missing the scan. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Kat.’

I trace the image, the tiny limbs, the out-of-proportion skull – alien-looking, almost.

Lisa rests her head on my shoulder. ‘I’m scared Mum will find out but I’m too scared to tell her,’ she almost whispers, and I don’t blame her. I don’t think Nancy will take the surrogacy well. Not when she knows the baby is coming to me. It’s hard, as I study the photo, to equate the black-and-white blur to the baby growing inside Lisa I press my hand against her belly.

‘Thanks.’ It’s such an innocuous word but dripping with everything I feel. Everything I want.

Lisa looks around the pub and shifts in her seat. She looks uncomfortable as she brushes my hand away.

‘It feels really tender still.’

‘God. I’m sorry.’ I’d thought about the emotional pain we are both feeling over her loss but she must be feeling awful physically too. ‘Can I do anything for you?’

‘No. I think I’ll go home and put my pyjamas on. Something looser. It doesn’t help my waistbands are tight. I know it’s early days but I think once you’ve been pregnant before your abdomen muscles are shot and you expand even quicker. Last time I didn’t show for ages, but this time I can’t do my jeans up already.’

‘Have you got any maternity clothes?’

‘No. I gave them to a charity shop. Didn’t think I’d need them again. You know I’ve never wanted a baby of my own.’ She fidgets again, eyes darting around the pub.

She’s putting me on edge. I find myself looking over my shoulder, paranoia gnawing at me.

‘Lisa, what’s wrong?’ I know her well enough to know something is, and it isn’t only that her clothes are tight.

Lisa stares miserably into her drink, dunking marshmallows under the chocolaty liquid with her finger and then letting them bob up again. ‘I’m worried somebody might see us here together and mention it to Mum.’

‘I saw her earlier.’

‘You didn’t say anything about the baby, did you?’ She looks stricken.

‘‘Of course not – but she’s going to notice.’

‘I know. I’m going to tell her.’

‘Do you want me to come? Explain?’

‘Best if you don’t. Actually, Kat.’ Lisa loops her scarf around her neck. ‘I’m going to do it on the way home. I’ll walk. It will do me good. You don’t mind if I leave, do you? Nothing worse than secrets, is there?’ Something unspoken is left hanging in the air.

‘Let me buy you some new clothes, at least.’ A small offering under the circumstances, and it’s questionable whether I’m doing this for her or to make myself feel better.

She shrugs on her coat. ‘I can get them out of my expenses.’

‘I’d like to treat you.’ Our eyes meet, and I think she sees how much I need to do something. ‘We could even go shopping together?’

‘Thanks. I’m feeling so drained though. If you transfer the cash, I’ll order some bits online.’

I nod my agreement, and after scribbling down her address for me so I can always find her if I need to, she’s gone.

I use the loo before I head for my car, rooting around in my bag for my keys. Broken glass crunching under my feet stops me in my tracks. Raising my head, blood roars in my ears as I see my car window is smashed. A prickle of unease causes me to whip my head around. Is someone there? Hiding behind the van, waiting to see my reaction? Crouching behind the wall leading to the beer garden? Thoughts ricochet as I try to rationalise what might have happened. Could someone have accidentally fallen against my car? Their elbow penetrating the glass? I dismiss each idea as it comes. The window is thick.

I peer inside the car. There is a brick on the passenger seat. Someone has done this deliberately. There’s a clattering sound behind me, and I gasp and spin around, but it’s only the barman tipping empty bottles into a plastic bin. He heads back into the pub, and there is only me left in the car park, but somehow, I don’t feel alone. Another sound springs at me, something I can’t identify, and I scuttle back to the pub. Back to warmth. Back to safety.

My eyes are fixed on the floor as I swerve to avoid a broken bottle. But before I reach the door, I round the corner and run smack into someone. My eyes take in his dirty trainers, dark blue denims, white shirt, and finally settle on his face.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he says.